


A Respectable Inn Near Bath

by ladyspencer



Category: Friday's Child - Georgette Heyer
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 07:09:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8195386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyspencer/pseuds/ladyspencer
Summary: Anthony, Viscount Sheringham, is finally motivated--highly motivated--to consummate his marriage of convenience. Difficulties ensue.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was Georgette Heyer's favorite Regency novel, though it has fallen into some disfavor recently because of the young age (barely seventeen) of the heroine. I happen to love it. 
> 
> A long time ago in a fandom far, far away, I was a dab hand at writing lovely smut. I am sadly out of practice, so we will gently draw the curtain on the two lovers and leave them in peace, preserving a "teen and up" rating. Sigh. The events in this very short fic take place just after the end of the book.
> 
> As usual, this work has not been beta read, so suggestions are welcome and appreciated.

Viscount Sheringham looked about him with satisfaction. It had taken a Herculean effort, but the coffee room and its adjoining private parlor had been cleared of people and of all the debris remaining from the evening’s earlier fracas. Wrotham had been dispatched first, escorting the Incomparable Isabella Milborne--now his betrothed--back to the care of Sherry’s mother in Bath. Sir Montagu Revesby had departed somewhat ignobly in the landlord’s gig, and Lord knew where he would end up. After some careful discussion, the wounded Mr. Tarleton was on his way to Bath in the hired chaise, escorted by Ferdy. Gil would ride back on Mr. Tarleton’s horse, and Mr. Tarleton would rest for one night at the York Hotel--and would be reunited with his pilfered belongings--before returning to his home. Gil had orders to send word to the dowager Lady Sheringham and to Lady Saltash that Lord Sheringham would return with his wife at some unspecified time on the morrow. Sherry’s horses were baited and put away in the stable, and Jason had sought his rest there as well. The only mortal being left behind at the inn, besides Sherry and his Kitten, was the venerable Pug, who continued to snore on the hearth rug.

Sherry bespoke burgundy for himself, ratafia for his wife, and a light supper before tenderly placing his arm around Hero’s shoulder and guiding her to the comfortable settle in the parlor. His heart turned over when she reached up and pulled him down for another kiss. He had just sat down beside her on the settle when a discreet knock signaled the arrival of their supper. Both of them were famished, and neither said anything for a few minutes as they enjoyed the simple meal.

Sherry finally broke the silence. “What do you say, Kitten? I thought we might spend the night right here. This looks like a respectable inn.”

Hero dimpled. “It is a respectable inn, Sherry. Do you think they will take us in without any baggage?”

“It is indeed a respectable inn. And I’ve laid out a respectable amount of blunt already. I don’t think the landlord will raise any objections. And if he does, we can send all manner of respectable people out here tomorrow to attest to our respectable standing as man and wife.”

Hero smiled, blushed, and looked down at her plate.

“I dashed well don’t want to take you home to my mother tonight,” Sherry went on. “And I’m not sure I care to endure any of Lady Saltash’s attempts at humor. Gil, Ferdy, and Mr. Tarleton are all at the York, and George is at the White Hart.”

“Bath is grown too crowded! This is the safest place by far, then. I don’t want to see any of them.” Hero blushed again, enchanting her husband still further.

They lingered over a second glass of wine until a maid tapped on the door with candles and an offer to conduct Lady Sheringham to their rooms. Sherry got to his feet as his wife stood, and leaned down to hear what she wanted to whisper to him. “Have you got your comb, Sherry?”

He smiled, handed her the comb he kept in his pocket, and whispered back, “Of course I do. You’ve borrowed it before, remember?”

Sherry waited patiently for a few minutes before following his wife--his bride--upstairs to their room. The room boasted a large, old-fashioned bed, the quilt invitingly turned down. A wood fire burned in the fireplace, and the room was lit by several candles.

He found his Kitten standing barefoot on the hearth rug, divested of her gown, reaching behind her back in a vain attempt to undo her laces. He covered the distance between them in two strides, moving behind her, caressing her shoulders and breathing a whisper into her ear, “I can assist you with those, Lady Sheringham.” And when the laces were all undone and the corset had been cast aside, his heart turned over again as she turned in his arms to face him and began working at the buttons on his waistcoat.

Jacket, waistcoat, cravat, and shoes were quickly removed, though what remained of his wits reminded him to lay them carefully over a chair. When he turned back to her and took her in his arms, he found she was trembling, and she hid her face in his shirt front. “What is it, Kitten? What’s amiss?” Her answer, whispered into his chest, was indistinguishable. He took her by the hand and led her to the wide bed, seating himself on the edge and patting the place next to him companionably. She sat, and he gathered her close, feeling her tremble. “Are you frightened, Kitten? Tell me,” he said gently.

“Oh, Sherry!” she began, fighting back a sob. “Cousin Jane--Cousin Jane says that this will be awful for me. Sh-she says that it will hurt dreadfully, and that I should j-just lie back and close my eyes, and th-think of something else. Gentlemen enjoy it, but it-it is the p-price women pay for being married.” Hero’s face was scarlet with embarrassment as she gulped back another sob. “I only want to please you, Sherry.”

“She said that, did she?” Sherry bit back his anger, pulled Hero onto his lap, and began laying a trail of tiny kisses just at the edge of her chemise. For some unaccountable reason, an assertion he had once heard from Flyaway Nancy echoed through his mind, and he seized it before it was lost to him. “Here is what I believe,” he began. “It’s all a hum, Kitten. Well, it’s mostly a hum.” He took her chin in his hand and planted a soft, sweet kiss on her lips. “They tell young girls that for two reasons. First of all, it’s to frighten them away from trying any of this before they are safely married.” He paused and kissed the base of her throat. “And secondly, there are plenty of clodpoles around who don’t want to take the trouble to make love to their wives. But I’m not one of them, Kitten.” He kissed her again, waiting to feel her respond before continuing. “I won’t be able to be happy until you are happy. It might feel uncomfortable just at first, but we can go as slowly as you wish, and you’ll soon grow to like it very much.”

He followed this by untying the ribbon which closed her chemise, pushing it off her shoulders, and running his finger lightly across a bare nipple until he heard a soft moan. “How does that feel, Kitten?” he whispered.

“It--it makes me want more.”

Can you forget about your Cousin Jane and all her foolishness and trust me?”

Hero favored him with a shy smile and untied his shirt. “I can trust you, Sherry.”

The two of them fell back together onto the bed.

~~~

Later that evening in Bath, Gil and Ferdy sat by the fire in Gil’s parlor at the York Hotel with their feet up and a bottle of port between them. All messages had been faithfully delivered. Mr. Tarleton’s wound had been properly dressed by a surgeon, and he was sleeping comfortably.

Ferdy replenished their glasses and said, “Wonder how Sherry and Kitten are getting on.”

“No, Ferdy,” replied Gil severely. “You don’t wonder that. You don’t wonder it ever again. Not our business to wonder, so don’t do it.”

“Eh?” said Ferdy. “Good heavens! No, by God, so I won’t.”


End file.
